Unanswered Questions
by savannahhershey
Summary: This takes several years prior to T4 and attempts to answer the question how Kate became Kate Conner.


**Author's Note:** This fic takes place several years prior to T4, in an effort to give Kate a bit more meat; and explain how she could have possibly become Kate Connor. On a personal note, I wrote this for Claire who shared some of the same annoyances at the abundance of unanswered questions regarding John and Kate's relationship. Yes this is a John/Kate shipper fic, if you hadn't already guessed. Very little angst, very little fluff, just trying to keep it real here folks! Enjoy! :D

**A/N 2:** I am reposting this fic after having deleted it and hopefully fixed some of the mistakes contained within.

Unanswered Questions: How did I become Mrs. John Connor?

The hospital tent has a sterile grittiness that only war can bring. It is filled with an impatient silence that hangs in the air, preparing for the inevitable chaos to ensue. Our orders are to await the expected casualties and the fortunate wounded; to prepare our-selves for the smell of death and the taste of agony.

So we wait… while others fight a seemingly fruitless battle, we are charged with healing the fragility of humanity in a war against the Machines.

In this war there is little chance that anyone will survive unscathed. It is a battle for our very existence there's no escaping, no hiding, nor any safe places. Not even the bunker John and I lived in through J-day was going to be hidden from the metal forever. Their finding us was inevitable, we could only control how prepared we were when it happened.

At the thought if John, I notice I'm absent-mindedly twisting the thin gold band that encircles my fourth finger. It is a habit I've developed whenever he is out on a mission. On the surface I do what needs to be done, I fulfill my duty as a doctor; but underneath in the part of me that differs from Machines I worry for his safety, his survival. Not because he is the "John Connor" of prophesied mythology, but because he is all that I have left in this world.

I've often asked myself the question: How did I become Mrs. John Connor?

These musings aren't out of some deep seeded regret, rather out of pure amusement for how life takes you places you'd never expect. I can't help but laugh at how my life turned out.

This, is not the plan I had in mind; I never imagined it would end up way. My plans did not include the destruction of our civilization. They especially did not include John Connor, or being the wife sitting back at base keeping busying so as not to worry for her husband's safety.

Being an army brat I should not be surprised that I found a husband who had been training to be a soldier since he could crawl. But I was surprised, how easy it was to fall for John, nothing prepared me for what it would mean to be loved by him, to love him.

August 20th, 2003 was the day I became Kate Connor; the following day I would emerge from the fall-out bunker, the wife of the prophesied leader of the resistance.

It was the wedding day I had been planning on for months, but it was nothing like I had dreamed it would be. It was just two people in a room making promises to each other. There were no flowers, no flowing white gown or guests applauding the union. My father was not there to walk me down the aisle and the man standing on the other side of the room was not the man I had thought I'd be walking towards.

John was standing there instead, with a look that only can be described as vulnerable despite the tough exterior he's had a lifetime of mastering; I can always tell. His eyes change and I who know him best can see the subtle difference.

I will forever remember that day with such clarity, treasuring it in every insignificant detail. How I'd spent the morning packing our matching duffle bags with what little we possessed; having pilfered most of it from the bunker itself. John had been loading and cleaning our weapons gathering together as much ammunition as he could find. Together we had finished loading the Humvee that had been found in the loading bay of the shelter.

The night before as we had dined on the packaged meals, which had been our only source of food for months, we had discussed our plans to leave the relative safety of the bunker. Having been in contact with other survivors, via our radio, it had been decided that the initial danger of radiation had passed. Although I had protested against that fact, many did not have the luxury of seemingly endless supplies of food as we did. The need to go out into the changed world was to some, desperate.

As our plans had been fixed for what needed to be done and packed before we left in two days, I had gotten up from the table and began to clear it of our debris. I remember him sitting there in contemplative silence as I moved around the mess. This was nothing new and I had gotten used to his need for inner reflection. I knew what ever was on his mind, he'd tell me eventually once he'd been able to put it into words.

So I was surprised when he caught my wrist as I reached for his water glass. Turning I looked at him, but he wasn't meeting my eyes, rather he continued to stare down at the table. His voice however was firm and determined.

"Marry me"

"What?" Was the only response that seemed to make sense. It was the one subject that in our months together we had never discussed. The fact that we had no intention of separating and even the subject of our future children had been broached, but the question of matrimony had seemed taboo.

"I want us to leave, together." He said, looking up into my face but still avoiding eye contact.

"What, I'm coming with you." Confusion still reigned in my mind, my heart racing unsure what was happening; his fingers still lightly holding my wrist.

His eyes shifted to finally meet mine. There must have been utter confusion in them, because still holding my gaze he slowly stood up and moved closer towards me; releasing my wrist along the way but instead snaking his arm around me in a newly familiar closeness. Instinctively I stepped closer into the embrace as he let out a sigh of relief.

Foreheads touching. Taking a deep breath he began his plea.

"Marry me, marry me not because it's inevitable and when we're being honest we know it is. Not because we've both lived through being hunted, through the hell of J-Day stuck down here knowing what is happening on the surface. Not because of those shared experiences, or because we're bound together fighting the Machines.

Marry me because you are the only real friend I've ever had, you're my best friend.

You're the only one I can trust, you are the only one whose opinion matters to me, and I can't imagine being able to win this war without you by my side.

Marry me because without you the future doesn't matter, because I love everything about you. We're prefect for each other, we need each other. Marry me because I know you feel the same way, because neither of us can do this alone."

Taking another deep breath he said firmly "marry me because we're a package deal."

"Yes" After such a speech it was the only word that I could form in that moment. Then quickly recovering my former sauciness, I quipped "Two Connors for the price of one then?"

The sound of his rarely heard laughter will forever fill my heart during these dark hours, and the feel of relief, of need and adoration felt in his subsequent kisses.

It didn't matter that no one would be there to marry us; the rule of law had ended. We would stand in the bunker's small cupboard of a chapel and make our vows.

Later that night we lay together in the bed; we had only recently been sharing, discussing our marriage plans. There were no decisions to be made about catering, guest lists or flowers. Rather he kept asking questions like: what time should we meet in the chapel, what did I want him to wear and should we finish off the freeze-dried ice cream afterwards.

Having him prompt me with these question came as somewhat of a surprised. I imagined his idea of our marriage would forgo any pretense of a wedding; but like he so often does he, surprised me. At the time I thought it was just for me that he designed the proceedings, and for that I adored him.

It would later become clear how much it meant to him for us to be marrying, how much he really wanted to be my husband. All of which he would later admit to, saying he couldn't give us the wedding he though I deserved, but he had at least wanted to try and make it somewhat special.

So there I stood in the entrance of the chapel, dressed in my cleanest cloths and having made myself look as nice as possible. John was waiting for me at the altar, in our somewhat foolish attempt to normalize the proceedings. He was wearing his nicest shirt, but all I noticed was the beautiful yet vulnerable smile, which he all too seldom wore.

As I walked closer I began to realize how much in love I with him I really was, and it startled me. I knew I loved him on some level, but the depth of my affections was a new feeling all together.

At that moment there wasn't anyone I'd rather be pledging myself to, no one I'd rather be standing beside in the coming battles. No one else I wanted to spend my life with and if I had to die I wanted to be looking up into his face as I did so.

He had been right; we did need each other and we were perfect for each other. Once we admitted it to ourselves the rest was easy.

Of course being locked in a bunker for several months together does help. The forced intimacy made us do the most important thing, talk. Once John gets going, once he feels comfortable I realized he really is a talker.

We became friends out of loneliness and our shared experiences, best friends out of mutual respect and adoration for one another. Finally we became lovers out of need, desire and craving to be as close to each other as possible; having already achieved an emotional intimacy neither of us had ever shared with anyone.

This final act of union happened the day I had finally taken off the engagement ring I had been wearing; knowing I needed to move on, I needed to move on with John. When I was being honest with myself, I knew my future was with John.

Our true friendship is something we both needed, most especially John. Never having any true friends apart from his mother. He needs someone he can trust implicitly, someone who he can discuss the past, the present and future and what it all means. I may not have any answers but I am there helping him retain his humanity, and his sanity.

Maybe that's my role in all this, to keep John just a man, to give him a real reason to keep fighting. Other than the hype he was feed from the cradle, the pressure that was put on him to be our savior.

For his part he's given me hope, that there can be a brighter future, that we can win this war and recreate our civilization. With him I now have a sense of purpose, something I never had before in my old life, before J-Day. He has showed me what true love and loyalty is, without him I would be empty.

Once I had reached the altar we took turns pledging all the usual marital promises, he took my hand and gently slipped the ring onto my finger. Having been procured it from the Chapel's sacristy. Then handed me similar gold band, to copy his actions. With tears clouding my vision I put the golden band on his finger, and instinctively kissed it. Looking up at him, all I saw was his love.

We gathered each other in a tight embrace, finally having the courage to whisper the words of love. It has since amused me that it took our wedding, for us to profess our love for each other aloud.

So I now find myself worrying while he out being a hero, praying that he survives and that we might have that brighter future the Terminator foretold.

The sound of a helicopter's propeller cuts through the air and chaos begins to reign. I move quickly forward waiting to greet the wounded and dying; as the first chopper makes its decent. Sand blows everywhere obstructing our view of those disembarking, but I recognize a certain figure as he jumps down effortlessly with his machine gun casually hanging off his shoulder.

I finally let out the breath I didn't know I was holding in. There's no time for greetings or tender reunions when others are suffering, but he quickly moves forward as I begin my work. Putting his hand in my shoulder he squeezes it ever so slightly and whispers in my ear almost ritualistically "later".

By now I know what this means, later he will tell me what's happened, later he will confide any secrets to me, later he will ask my opinion, later he will comfort me after seeing so much death and being able to save so few, later he will hold me and we will love each other pretending the world doesn't exist except for ourselves.

John Connor may be the prophesied leader of the resistance, but to me he is the husband I married because of the man he is, not who he is destined to be.


End file.
